


When Humans Want Something Really, Really Bad

by pollutedstar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s10e05 Fan Fiction, F slur, Gen, Homophobic John Winchester, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Pre-Relationship, Religious Conflict, Supportive Sam Winchester, he tries at least hfkjdsfhsjk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28991097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollutedstar/pseuds/pollutedstar
Summary: It’s been thirty-one years, and Sam’s still waiting for the day his brother stops crying.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 23
Kudos: 317





	When Humans Want Something Really, Really Bad

**Author's Note:**

> More Supernatural fanfiction where I write Dean's internalized homophobia lmaoo. I'm also working on my next and final Daredevil fic chapter!

When Sam was six he thought Dean was the bravest human being in the world, braver than Dad and God, because he could take anything life threw at him. Dean knew how to get rid of monsters under the bed and how to do multiplication way before Sam, even if he never got the hang of long division, and how to get the other kids to stop talking about Sam’s hair.

When Sam was six, he slept really well because Dean, bigger and angrier and stronger, slept next to him in the motel beds.

When Sam was six, his dad was drunker than usual, which was saying something. John got meaner somehow, slammed his foot on the gas pedal and moved them from town to town quicker than he had before. Sam didn’t like all the motels because he liked to have one concrete place he could put all his army soldiers, but Dean told him that he could always keep them in the pocket of Dean’s bag, which took care of that problem easily. Dean always took care of Sam’s problems easily.

When Sam was six, he crawled out of bed in the middle of the night, the room empty of both his father and his brother. His dad never came home, but Dean never left him, not if he could help it, and never without an explanation. So he shuffled over to the nightstand on Dean’s side of the bed, looking for a note or a reason or a promise he wouldn’t be alone forever, but he stopped when he heard the muffled sound of crying from the bathroom. Not just crying, but sobbing, the kind that Sam sometimes did when he woke up with the taste of pennies in his mouth.

When Sam was six, he realized his brother was really, really scared, but he’d never tell another human soul.

It’s been thirty-one years, and Sam’s still waiting for the day his brother stops crying.

* * *

Dean is so angry when they leave the rehearsal, feet-stomping, door-slamming, Sam’s-shocked-he-doesn’t-say-fag angry. John-angry.

That’s what this anger is, Sam knows. The John that lives inside their heads. Sam’s calls him a monster, a freak. Sam is suspicious Dean’s does the same.

He tries to make a joke because he may be the emotionally stable one of the family, but that doesn’t really mean jack shit for the Winchesters and he never knew how to shut John up, just how to yell over him.

“Shouldn’t it be Deastiel?”

Dean looks ready to cry in his subtle, hidden way that no one but Sam can recognize. “Really? That’s your issue with this?”

“No, of course it’s not my issue,” Sam says because he doesn’t know how to say, “There isn’t an issue with this, I don’t have an issue with this. I don’t have an issue with you.”

He doesn't know how to say we don't have to be Dad's mistakes and this will not ruin us, or me, or you. He doesn’t know how to say Dean you should be happy, Dean you deserve to be happy, Dean you want to be happy, you just don’t know how. He doesn't know how to say it so he gets into the passenger seat and hopes Dean forgives himself one day because Sam doesn't know how to say I'm sorry in moments like these.

* * *

“It just drives me nuts,” Sam groans, kicking the leg of the table idly. He feels tired, not of cases but of everything that comes with them. Tired of _people_ and everything that comes with them.

“It was killing them. They knew it was killing them, and they still couldn’t just fucking be honest.”

“Well, when humans want something really, really bad, they lie,” Cas says, more astutely than he should.

Sam stares.

“Something Dean told me once.”

He hesitates before saying, “That’s not true, Cas.”

It’s a strange thing to be disturbed by, but Cas’s teeth have always bothered Sam. It’s one of those things about him that just signals “I AM NOT HUMAN.” They’re too white. It’s obvious they don’t need to be taken care of because they’re never used.

Cas flashes them at him now, something that is almost a smile but really, really isn’t.

“Yes it is.”

Dean walks in before Sam can respond, and it’s nothing but teeth and softly glowing eyes and the faint hum of electricity in the air after that.

* * *

He plays the conversation over in his mind later, wondering if he could have told Dean in clearer terms. Wondering if when they walked out of that high school he should have just turned to Dean and said, “I know.”

But really, that’s what he did. He told him it’s okay, look, I’ll even joke about being in love with Cas. Give you a chance to make a “that’s my man” joke, give you a chance to say anything you want because I’m smiling Dean, I’m always smiling about things that make you happy and you’re always crying about them, but never in front of me. You cry in the bathroom or under the covers or go out to Baby at night when you think I can’t hear you closing the Bunker door, but never in front of me. Never in front of anyone.

Sam worked so hard to not be John, and it hurts somewhere deep to know that sometimes when Dean looks at him all he sees is their father’s eyes.

* * *

They watch their strange, younger doppelgangers hop into the cardboard cutout of a car and talk about family, Dean’s hand clutched around something Sam can’t quite see. Something precious, Sam can tell. Something full of love and regret. Something Dean will pour his overly devoted nature into when he can’t hold it back anymore.

The moment in the play ends, but Dean can’t bring himself to walk away from the stage. Sam’s got an itch to skip town now that they’ve decided to get on the road, but he waits as Dean struggles with all the things he wants to do and say and stop holding onto.

“Dad told me I was going to Hell,” he finally states, matter of fact and numb.

“What?”

Dean shrugs. “I’m sure he told you that, too. All your psychic stuff. And he was drunk enough that I think he’d say anything to either one of us. But I was thirteen, and he told me I was going to Hell.”

Sam doesn’t know if it will make it better or worse, but he honestly says, “He never said that to me.”

Dean nods. Sam knows that he’s hiding it, but relief washes over him when Sam says it. It’s been thirty-one years and Sam’s still not clear exactly how much of their childhood Dean has hidden from him.

“He ended up being right.”

“God saved you, Dean. Because you didn’t deserve—”

“God didn’t save me, Sammy. You know that.”

There’s a pause. A long one. The opening notes of a song Sam distantly remembers begins, and Dean hums along. Sam doubts he realizes he does it.

A look crosses Dean’s face that reminds Sam that, even though he’d never admit it, Dean keeps a photo of Cas tucked away in his wallet.

“But I got saved. Dad never said that would happen.”

* * *

The drive home is tense and the silence is heavy, even though there’s a tape playing loudly in Baby’s speakers. Sam saw the kids who played Dean and Cas at the end of the play before they left. The way their hands brushed over each other’s even backstage.

“They were lesbians,” Dean says, unprompted, and Sam remembers that they really have been inside each other’s heads.

He swallows and keeps every reaction from his voice. “The girls who played... you and Cas?”

Dean nods stiffly.

It’s something.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! :)


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